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“No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.”
- Aesop (620–564 BCE), Greek slave and fabulist
I saw my mother again today.
This wouldn’t necessarily be that unusual, except I’ve not seen her since 1979.
She passed that year, a year after my father succumbed to cancer.
It was in a dream.
She did not have the streaks of grey in her hair yet. She was in the prime of life.
I had something I wanted to ask her.
Now that the nap is over, I’ve forgotten what it was.
Some dreams are like that. Fragments escape memory upon awakening. Some fragments remain.
Soren Kierkegaard (1813–1855), Danish philosopher, made a trenchant observation. He said, in effect, life can only be properly appreciated in retrospect, but must be lived in prospect. That is why it is so hard for some of us.
My mother was MA Mother of the Year for 1964. Although she ascribed any credit to Another (she was nothing if not a woman of deep faith), in eyes of some, she was richly deserving. Devoted to my father, she bore 6 children and raised them without complaint.
She came from a higher station in life than did my father, but cheerfully converted some of the finery…
